


Coffee

by franks_hands



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, drugdealer!gerard - Freeform, policeman!frank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4434206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franks_hands/pseuds/franks_hands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Name: Gerard Arthur Way<br/>5'9", slim build, black medium-length hair, hazel eyes</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very old thing that I'm just now posting for some reason.

I knew the man’s face because there was a picture of it tacked to the bulletin board in the office and another one taped to the wall of my cubicle.

Underneath both pictures were lines of small, barely readable font. With the man staring at me, I could only remember one of those lines.

Name: Gerard Arthur Way

The next line said something about drug dealing, but I didn’t have to memorize the words to remember his offence. I was, after all, one of the officers assigned to his case.

And here he was, 5’9”, slim build, black medium-length hair, hazel eyes, staring at me with a cup of coffee held casually in his right hand. He set it down on the table.

“Your coffee, officer.” 

All sound beyond the table I was seated at, beyond the criminal dressed in a waiter’s uniform, seemed to fade. The chatter of customers, the sound of employees shouting orders, was drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in my ears.

I shot a nervous glance at the man behind the cash register. Ray was his name. He was the manager. I came here often enough to know that. He was talking with a customer, a fake smile plastered on his face, but I noticed the way his eyes darted between the elderly lady in front of him and the dark-haired man beside me. He was sweating through his uniform.

“How do you know who I am?” I asked, eyes returning to that pretty face. My voice was low and scratchy.

Gerard smiled a little and shrugged, as if nothing was wrong here. As if it were normal for a dangerous criminal to be serving coffee to a policeman. I wasn’t even in uniform. How the hell did he know who I was? 

His right hand, the one that had handed me the coffee, was now resting on his hip, stretching the fabric of the shirt in a way that revealed a bulge emerging from the waistband of his pants, to the right of his belt buckle. 

“I think it’s about time for my break, actually.” His voice was deep and smooth, and he knew that my heart was beating fast, that I was surprised and slightly terrified. It was my night off. If I didn’t run into criminals like this while I was on duty, why did it have to happen when I put my guard down? 

“Why don’t you come with me?” He talked to me as if talking to a scared animal, coaxing it out of its’ cage, out of safety, but the way he made a discrete gesture to the weapon tucked into his pants was anything but comforting.

“I. Uh.” My legs pulled themselves up, out of the booth. Gerard smiled, this weird stretch of his lips that made him look delighted, absolutely delighted that I had agreed to go with him, as if he’d asked me out on some sort of date.

Before he ushered me out the back door of the building, he stopped to whisper something in Ray’s ear. The poor guy was shaking.

“The cops get called, and your whole family’s dead.”

“Cellphone.” Gerard reached a pale hand in front of me as I clicked the seatbelt shut, his palm up, expectant.

No way in hell. 

“I don’t have a cellphone.” 

But, much to my dismay, he wasn’t a total idiot. “Bullshit. Hand it over, or I’m pulling out the gun.” 

And that was all the convincing I really needed. I slipped my cellphone into his hand, palms sweaty. “Where are you taking me?” He pulled out of the parking lot smoothly, apparently in no kind of hurry. Speeding and making sudden turns would bring too much attention to us. There was suddenly a sharp pang in my gut. He was going to kill me, I was almost certain.

“Hotel.” His voice was level, incredibly calm, and it put me a little at ease, and I couldn’t figure out why.

Less than ten minutes later, Gerard pulled the car into another parking lot, taking one of the furthest spots from the hotel’s entrance.

“Look. I don’t know what you want, but if you’ll just tell me, maybe we can make a deal and you can let me leave.”

But Gerard just grinned at me a little, shaking his head and turning off the engine. “I don’t want you to leave.”

I was freaking out, but years of training had me pretty calm on the outside. My fingers were trembling and my palms were sweaty, but I managed to keep my voice level when I spoke. “What do you want?”

He chuckled, “I want a lot of things. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“What do you want from  me ?”

His grin disappeared, replaced with a smirk, his eyes seeming to have gone a shade darker along with the sky. “Again--a lot of things.”

I was caught off guard when he was suddenly invading my space, leaning over the center console to press his nose against the side of my head, his lips brushing my ear so lightly that I may have only imagined the contact. “But for now,” he whispered, “I want you.” The hair on the back of my neck seemed to stand on end, “In a bed. On top of me.” 

And okay, that hadn’t been what I expected to hear.

Without allowing me a moment to recover, he pulled himself back into his seat, expression serious. “You got a credit card on you?” He asked, and it was a few moments before his words even registered in my mind. I was replaying his previous words in my head over and over again, and every time I heard them, my entire body tensed a little bit more.

“I-uh. Yeah. Yeah, I got a credit card.” 

He nodded, all business. As if he hadn’t expressed his desire for me moments before. “Good. Go inside, get us a room for the night. I’ll follow you in at a small distance.”

Before he even finished his sentence, I was nodding, pushing the door open, every muscle in my body buzzing with some kind of energy that I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. I wasn’t sure if it was fear or excitement. It felt like a mixture of both.

“Oh, and Frankie?” Gerard called me, just as I was about to slam the door shut. I ducked my head back inside of the car. Suddenly, I wasn’t even interested in how the hell he knew my name.

He waved the gun at me, eyebrow quirked. “You try something--call the cops or whatever--and I’ll shot the first person I see. Got it?” 

I felt like a teenager. 

It was eerily similar to the night of my senior prom, the feeling I had as I rode the elevator to the fifth floor, hands clasped in front of my body, Gerard to my right. Neither of us spoke a word. 

Twelve years ago, it had been Katy, a punk chick I’d had a crush on for almost all of high school. We both knew our parents were going to kill us when we got back home. But that’s why it was so thrilling. We liked knowing how much trouble we were going to get into.

It was almost like that now. Only a lot more intense, and with a lot more actual, real-life danger involved. my prom date, for example, hadn’t been carrying a gun and also hadn’t been a known drug dealer. She also hadn’t abducted me.

The elevator doors slid open, and Gerard took off ahead of me, finding the correct door and waiting for me to unlock it, body appearing to be a lot less tense than mine. He almost looked lazy, standing there with his hip popped to the side, hand resting there, other hand reaching up to push black locks out of his eyes.

The room was small, simple, but it had a big bed in the center, and that was really all Gerard seemed concerned about, as he strutted to the side of it, only after making sure the door had locked behind us.

“Clothes.” Was all he said to me, but I understood. He didn’t begin to undress until I was laid out on the bed, eyes on the ceiling. Everything seemed to happen much too fast for my confused mind to comprehend. I didn’t even know if I wanted this. 

I knew I wasn’t supposed to. 

I was supposed to have called the station, back at the diner, as soon as I recognized him. I could have gotten backup within minutes, the station being only a short distance away. But it seemed too late for that. He had my cell phone kept safely in his pocket, anyway. Not that I wouldn’t be able to obtain it with ease. I told myself it was too dangerous to reach down to his pants, strewn on the floor, and withdraw my cell without him noticing, but I wasn’t sure if it really was all that dangerous.

The thing was, Gerard was really  pretty . 

Even before I’d ever seen his face in person, I knew that. That’s why I was so weirdly excited when I was assigned to his case. Most of the criminals of his type that we chased after were a lot less attractive. They had messed up teeth and unclear skin and overall a sickly look about them, mostly as a result from all the drugs they usually did. More often than not, they looked and dressed like they were homeless.

Gerard, though, wore faded black skinny jeans and a nice leather jacket that he’d pulled over the shirt he stole from the diner when we got into his car. He had clear, pale skin, and although I could definitely see the drug use in his slightly sunken in eyes and cheeks, the wear and tear of the drugs had a different effect on him. The sort of gaunt look made his cheekbones more defined, and the darkness around his eyes was made to look almost purposeful by the smudges of black eyeliner he was wearing.

I couldn’t deny that I was attracted to him.

Thinking about it made me blush, and I could tell he noticed as he climbed on top of the bed, skin exposed, and grinned wide at me before leaning down for a wet kiss. Just like in the diner, I could hear blood rushing in my ears.

The mattress shifted as Gerard climbed back into the bed, pulling the covers up over both of our bodies. The room was dark. 

“So…” I whispered, unsure of where he was in the dark.

“So you’re wondering how I knew you, right?”

“Yeah.” The question was still nagging at my mind, although it seemed less important now. What seemed important was the body next to me, the drying sweat, and the sound of his breathing.

“I guess you could say I…” He moved closer, and now I could feel him. “I have connections to the police department.”

“Connections?” I knew I should have been much more concerned about it than I was.

He chuckled, “Uh. Yeah.” The tone of his voice told me he thought it was obvious. I had no clue what he was referring to. “I mean. Having a brother there and all.” 

“A brother..?” And then, when it dawned on me, I felt like a complete idiot. Mikey. “Oh. I--uh… oh.” It was weird that Mikey had never said anything about it to me. He was my best friend. Actually, it was kind of suspicious.

“What, you didn’t know Mikey was my brother?” There was shock in his voice, and I was glad the lights were off because I was definitely blushing.

“I guess I just never put two and two together.”

Gerard chuckled, breath suddenly tickling my ear. It sent a chill down my spine, despite the uncomfortable heat underneath the blanket.

My mind was beginning to race again, coming out of it’s confused daze, but my eyes weren’t on the same page. They felt heavy, and I was about to drift off. When Gerard whispered the word  sleep in my ear, I nodded slightly, agreeing that yeah, sleep was a good idea.

The last thing I felt before drifting off was his lips just below my ear.

Mikey had his own office. Like, an actual office with actual walls that went ceiling to floor and kept a majority of noise from escaping or drifting in.

Dewees had a theory that he’d gotten on his knees in front of Chief to get it, but I didn’t believe it. Mikey just had this way with people. I didn’t even know what it was because the guy was so awkward and silent most of the time.

The door was cracked open a few inches when I knocked, and that annoyed me a little. He had that much privacy, that much peace and quiet at his fingertips, and he treated it like he didn’t even care. If this were my office, the door would be kept shut, and would never open wider than the amount of space necessary for my body to slip through.

“Hey, Mikes.” I let myself inside.

He glanced up at me, hand occupied with the paperwork in front of him. He greeted me with a nod an a not-so-enthusiastic “Frank.”

“So, uh. How’s Alicia doing?” 

Mikey set his pen down, raising his head to crack his neck, once to each side. “She’s good.” I nodded in response, but kept silent, leaning against the doorframe. I wasn’t sure if I should get straight to the point or beat around the bush a little. Apparently, Mikey was having none of that, though. “And I  know you didn’t come in here just to ask me about my wife, Frankie. What do you want?” 

I pouted, feigning hurt, “I can’t ask my best friend a simple question without being accused of an ulterior motive?” 

But Mikey just quirked an eyebrow at me, and then I saw the resemblance he and his brother shared. It was in the eyebrows. Holy shit, it was obvious now.

“I just. I was wondering why you never mentioned you have a drug-dealing brother.” I shrugged, and my stomach was churning because I wasn’t sure if he would get angry at me.

He didn’t get angry, though, and his eyes narrowed, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips, “Wait--you didn’t realize…” He shook his head, eyes searching me as if to determine whether or not I was being serious. After a moment, he shrugged, “I mean, I thought you already knew that. Being on his case and all.” He shrugged again, laughing, “Seems like something you should have known.”

I sighed, “Okay, yeah, I really should have known that. I knew he had a brother in the area, I just.” I tried to ignore the way Mikey was laughing at me. Jerk.

“So is that it?” He said after a while, “You came here to inform me of your sloppy police work? ‘Cause if you’re done, I really need to get back to this paperwork.” 

Pulling the door behind me shut quietly, I shook my head. Mikey leaned forward, and for the first time since I came into his office, he actually looked interested in what I had to say. “You’re his brother.” I stated, “So you must know quite a bit about him, right?” 

But Mikey shook his head, running a hand over his face and removing his glasses, “If you’re here to ask me where he is--I promise I know nothing of the sort. I don’t even see him anymore. Haven’t in a few years. He doesn’t come to family gatherings or holidays or whatever.” Mikey shrugged, cleaning his glasses with his shirt, “When he started up the whole dealing thing, he kinda got cast out of the family. Understandably.” 

I nodded and said, “Right. That’s not what I was looking for, actually,” which was a lie, because I definitely wanted to know where I could find Gerard after I’d woken up in that hotel bed, eight AM, alarm blaring, and no Gerard in sight. Not even a note or a number left behind.

It hadn’t occurred to me until hours later, when I rolled into the police station parking lot, that the thought of informing the people at the station of my run-in with the known dealer hadn’t even crossed my mind. It wasn’t an option, not if I wanted to see him again.

And, yeah, I really wanted to see him again.

“So what are you looking for, then?” Mikey asked, glasses returning to his face. He looked tired. I wondered if he’d even been home last night. He was a workaholic sometimes.

I shrugged, “Anything, really. The answer lies in the details, right? So maybe it’s something small that finally gets him. Something that seems insignificant but ends up landing him in prison.” I was lying through my teeth.

“Frank, there’s a reason I got myself extracted from that case.” He leaned back in his chair, less interested in the conversation now that it had turned to the topic of imprisoning his brother. “I know he’s a criminal and all. And believe me, I don’t agree with any of the life choices he’s made in the past fifteen years. Just.” He shrugged, “It’s hard for me to help get my brother arrested, y’know?” 

“Yeah, no. I get that. Totally. But I mean--if it makes it any better--this stuff won’t exactly be going into any files or anything.” 

Mikey looked at me for a moment, confused, “What do you mean?”

I crossed my arms over my chest, on the defensive because I knew Mikey would hate what I was going to tell him. “You know how I don’t always agree with the department’s methods.” He nodded once, slowly. “I’ve been doing my own little investigation, I guess. Seeing where it gets me. If I get anything big, I’ll turn it over to the department. Promise.”

But Mikey had already turned red with anger. “Frank, are you insane?” His voice kept that monotonous sound that didn’t at all match the color of his cheeks. I wondered if, in good health, Gerard’s cheeks could look like that. “Do you not realize how dangerous Gerard is?” 

I blinked at him, “He’s a drug dealer, not a murderer.”

Mikey stood from his seat, slamming his hands on his desk, and that startled me. His anger usually didn’t manifest itself in physical violence.

“Frank, just--please. You’re being a complete idiot. You can’t take him alone. You’ll get shot.” For a second, he seemed to consider moving around his desk, which was the only thing separating us, but then he stayed put and shook his head, setting his glasses down on his desk and pinching the bridge of his nose, “I do  not  want to see my best friend seriously injured because of my brother.”

I pouted, “I won’t get hurt, Mikes. Promise.”

But he just glared at me, and then he was sighing, flopping back down into his chair, shoulders dropped at his sides. “You’re incredibly stupid. And you’re not allowed to do this.”

He swallowed, pausing to take a sip from the coffee cup on his desk, “But I know, since you are so incredibly stupid, that you’re not going to listen to me. So just  please be careful.”

I grinned at him, in the way I knew would make him unable to continue to be angry with me. “I’ll be careful. Promise.”

Not much had changed about Pete Wentz.

I found him at nearly midnight, smoking outside of the same bar we used to sneak into in high school, back when all that mattered to us was fake ID’s, booze, drugs, and chicks.

I grew out of that phase. He didn’t.

He was easy to spot because his appearance had changed even less than his life had. Same choppy haircut, same ripped black jeans, same dirty t-shirt. He even carried himself in the same posture, loose and constantly appearing to be slightly intoxicated, even when he wasn’t. 

I parked my car a few blocks down and watched him in my rear view mirror, smoking a cigarette. One of the few remnants of my late high school years, along with all of the tattoos. 

When Pete parted with the scruffy men that had been keeping him company, he snuffed out his cigarette and stuffed his hands in his pockets, shuffling down the sidewalk in my direction. I didn’t get out of my car until he was well past me, and when I did, I walked in the same manner--head down, hands hidden.

After a few more blocks, he turned a corner, and I followed from a distance, adrenaline pumping. For a few moments I forgot that I wasn’t after what Pete was after. Teenage Frank would have loved this.

We’d been walking for almost ten minutes when he turned another corner, this time into an alleyway. I almost laughed; it seemed so cliche. 

I stopped just before the opening of the alley, holding my breath and listening. I could hear a faint voice--Pete’s, probably--and then another--Gerard’s, definitely. I couldn’t fight the urge to peek around the corner.

That had been a mistake.

“Someone’s following you.” I heard Gerard hiss, and I whipped back around the corner.

“What are you talking about?”

“You let someone  follow you , you  complete dumbass !”

The voices stopped, and there was the sound of footsteps. A moment later, there were two solid hands on my clothes, using them to yank me into the alleyway roughly, landing me on my ass on the hard pavement.

“Fuck.” Gerard muttered, hands unclenching from the fabric of my t-shirt. I felt my face go red.

“Who the fuck are you!?” Pete demanded, winding up for a kick to my side. But Gerard put a hand on his chest, shoving at him a little.

“Shut up, dumbass. He’s with me.” 

Pete gaped for a moment, “He’s stalking me!” His attention turned to me, as I took Gerard’s hand, pulling myself up. “I’ll call the cops on you, you fucking creep!” Apparently, he didn’t recognize me.

“I  am the cops.” I spat at him, dusting myself off. I was going to be sore as hell in the morning.

Pete gaped even more and opened his mouth to say something else, but Gerard beat him to it, pulling out a baggie of white powder and handing it over to Pete. “Here. Now fuck off.” 

Pete began to whine, “This is like half of what I--”

“You ripped me off last time. Now fuck off or I’ll put a bullet in your foot.” 

That was enough to get Pete to disappear in about three seconds flat. And then it was just Gerard and I, in a dark alleyway, at midnight.

He lit a cigarette, shaking his head, “You followed him.” He stated flatly.

I nodded, “Wasn’t hard.”

“Shit.” He exhaled, smoke blown toward me by the wind. “Gotta stop doing business with that dumbass.” 

An awkward silence fell. I hadn’t really planned any further than the point where Pete would unknowingly lead me to Gerard.

“So.” He offered me a cigarette, and I accepted even though I’d already had one for the night and I’d been trying to keep it down to one per day. “Why are you here, then? Policeman looking for some illegal substances? Seems to me like you’ve got a trick up your sleeve. Wires, maybe. Backup around the corner, probably. I’d bet you’re armed.” He lit my cigarette for me and, despite mentioning his suspicions, didn’t make a move to search me for wires or figure out if I had backup.

I shrugged and took a drag. “What, you’re not gonna frisk me?” 

He shrugged as well, “I figure I’d be in cuffs by now if you were here to bust me.” He smirked, “Also, I had a feeling you’d track me down. Considering how much you enjoyed our last encounter.”

There was a motel within walking distance. It was cheap and a bit grimy, but the room had a bed. That was what mattered.

This time, instead of letting out a long sigh and pulling the blankets over our bodies, Gerard climbed up out of the bed, pulling his boxers on and then ruffling through his jacket until he pulled out a packet of white powder. I watched him pour some out on the night stand, push it into neat lines with the credit card I had used to pay for the room. He used a dollar bill from my wallet, rolled up, to snort the coke. I watched him take a couple of lines and then he offered me some.

“I shouldn’t.” I muttered, but as I spoke, I was taking the dollar bill and shifting over to his side of the bed, leaning my face down to snort a line. I felt his hand press gently against my bare back as I inhaled sharply. 

“God, Frankie.” He breathed, but didn’t elaborate. I sat up, back against the headboard. He took another line.

“Gerard?” He glanced up at me, one eyebrow quirked, and I asked, “Can I, like, have your number or something?” 

He sat up, sniffed, shook his head, “No. No way.” 

I pouted, “How am I supposed to see you again? I mean--stalking Pete was pretty easy. But it was kinda tedious finding him.”

Gerard shrugged, offering me another line. I accepted, and as I inhaled, he assured me, “Oh, you’ll see me again.” He encouraged me to snort the last line he’d laid out, and then he was off of the bed again, pulling a flask out of his jacket. He took a swig before offering me some.

I considered asking what it was, but then a voice in my head--one that sounded suspiciously like teenage Frank’s voice--said  fuck it , and I took a couple of swigs, the liquid burning my throat. I was handing the flask back to Gerard when my cellphone began to ring loudly, in the pocket of my jeans on the floor.

But Gerard was two steps ahead of me, and had the cell in his fingers before I was even off of the bed. He took one look at the caller ID, and then was answering, a slight grin on his lips. “Hey! Mikey!” I gasped.

“Gerard! What are you doing!?” I tried to snatch the phone from him, but he dodged me, standing from the bed.

“Yeah-yeah, he’s here. Jeez, what do you think I’m gonna do--kill him?” Gerard was saying into the receiver, and all I could do was lay back and listen. Mikey was going to kill me. Gerard had set the flask down on the night stand, so I took it and gulped the rest of the liquid down. My head spun for a moment and I wondered if Gerard was trying to drug me--beyond the coke, that is--but then I remembered that he had taken a few good swigs from the flask as well.

“Yeah, he’s fine. I’m fine. We’re all fine here.” Gerard was rolling his eyes, and after a moment, he nodded. “Yeah, one sec.” And then he handed the phone to me. 

I didn’t want to talk to Mikey. 

“Hey, Mikes. How’s the wife?”

“You’re so fucking stupid, Frank. So, incredibly fucking stupid. I don’t even know how to express how much of a fucking dumbass you are.”

I chuckled despite myself, alcohol having an effect. “Thanks, Mikes. I love you, too.”

“I don’t think you realize what you’ve gotten into, Frank.” He sounded stressed and totally exasperated.

I shrugged even though he couldn’t see me, “You’re just saying that because I’m fucking your brother.” That wasn’t something sober Frank would have chosen to say.

Mikey heaved a long, heavy sigh on the other end, making the sound all fuzz. “Don’t fucking tell me you guys are doing drugs.” 

“Uh.” Was all I needed to say. Mikey got the picture.

He sounded like he was about to break out in a yell, “Frank, you need to understand that my brother is batshit crazy. He’s insane. He saw a picture of you and became obsessed. You should be fucking afraid of him.”

It sounded like he was going to go on, but I spoke over him, “Yeah, okay, Mikes. Thanks for the warning. I’ll keep it in mind.” And then I hung up.

Gerard turned the lights off and then climbed into the bed next to me, pulling the blankets over us. It didn’t occur to me until then how strange it was that Mikey had called at one in the morning. I voiced my thought to Gerard, who rolled his eyes, “He was probably just getting home from work.” And yeah, that definitely made sense, “And I left a note at his house.” 

I was about to ask if it was true that they hadn’t seen each other in years, but then there was a head resting on my chest and arms wrapped around me, a low voice telling me to sleep.

When I woke up six hours later, there was a note resting on my jeans on the floor, messy handwriting scribbled across the paper. 

A date, a time, and a place.

We went on like that for months. Meeting late at night, making love, consuming whatever drugs Gerard had left on that night, falling asleep, waking up with a date, a time, and a place scribbled on a piece of paper on the night stand.

We fell into a routine, and it was pleasant. I liked being with Gerard. Even when we were just laying there, high or sober, talking about things. Sometimes when I woke up, I couldn’t remember what we had talked about. Sometimes, the things he said stuck with me and echoed in my mind for a week afterwards.

At work, his case had slowed down. He’d cut a few customers off--including Pete--and as a result, was less easily detected by the station. 

It was sort of strange, and I found myself feigning frustration at the station, just so that my co-workers wouldn’t suspect anything. It wasn’t that I was throwing out evidence or purposely leading the department off of Gerard’s trail, but I’d certainly stopped putting in the effort I had once been putting in. 

Gerard couldn’t be arrested now. I couldn’t let that happen. 

On this night, we hadn’t done any drugs. After we finished, Gerard pulled the blankets over us and pulled my body against his, sighing contentedly against my hair. 

I guess it wasn’t really the most romantic question to ask, but it had been nagging at me for a couple of weeks.

“Have you ever killed anyone, Gerard?”

He scoffed, but only after missing a beat. “Of course not. I’m a drug dealer, not a murderer. I don’t even shoot people unless I think they’re gonna hurt me.”

I was already slipping into a dream. It had been a long day at work and for a good hour, Dewees and Bryar had been close to getting onto Gerard’s trail. It had put me on edge. I needed the relief. 

So, in my dreamy state, I made the mistake of believing Gerard. 

He pulled back a few inches, so that my eyes could focus on his, and then he closed the space again, this time to kiss me.

There had been a shine in his eyes, the hazels glazing over as if lying provided him the same high his drugs did. I briefly wondered what else he had lied to me about, but with his lips moving against mine, it seemed unimportant. What mattered was that we were in bed together, limbs tangled, drifting off to sleep.

Most mornings after seeing Gerard, the sound of an alarm clock or of the front desk calling would wake me up. I could usually sleep uninterrupted until the morning.

But there was one time that I woke to the feeling of falling, and then the feeling of my body slamming against something hard and unforgiving. It was the floor.

For a moment, I thought that I’d rolled off of the bed. It was something I used to do a lot when I was a kid.

But there was also the sound of Gerard sobbing above me, and when he placed a solid kick between my ribs, I realized that he’d grabbed me and pushed me down. His kick knocked the wind out of me, and I tried to scream, but it was hard to get the sound out. I was reaching up, grabbing his leg, trying to decipher what the hell he was saying to me, when he gave me another hard kick, this time to the nose. There was a crunch and then I could feel blood dripping from my nostrils, spotting my chest and the floor.

I was dreaming. I had to be. And Gerard was tossing and turning beside me, and if I could just wake up, I could hold him down and my nose wouldn’t be broken and I wouldn’t be on the floor.

“You said you wouldn’t, Frankie! I trusted you!” He was yelling, and when he stopped kicking me, I finally got a good look at his face, streaked with tears. His nose was bleeding, too, but I wasn’t sure why because I hadn’t hit him or anything. He was more clothed than me, having pulled a shirt and pants on. I was curled up in my boxers.

“Gerard!” I pulled myself up onto my knees, grabbing his legs because it hurt a little bit to breathe after his kick to my ribs. “Gerard, stop! What’s wrong?” 

For a few, long moments, the only sound in the room was of him sobbing, hands covering his face. “You betrayed me,” he whined, “You called them. You said you wouldn’t. I trusted you! I can’t go to prison! I can’t, Frankie.” And when he pulled his hands out of his face, reaching behind him for something, I finally got a look at his bloodshot eyes.

“Gerard.” I mumbled, standing and grabbing his shoulders, “Gerard, what the hell did you take? You need to calm down. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

With one hand, Gerard pushed me away from him, using so much force that I stumbled back and hit the wall. With the other hand, Gerard pointed a gun at me. My heart seemed to stop, every fiber of my being going still. Everything in the room but Gerard’s hand and Gerard’s gun seemed to fade to a blur.

“I heard the sirens.” He sobbed, “You called them. You-you’re getting me arrested.” His whole body shook with a sob, “You-you… Frankie, why?”   
I shook my head, desperate, hands going up by my sides. “I didn’t call anyone, Gee, I promise.”

“ Don’t call me that! ” And this time, he broke into a scream.

I began to take a step forward, but before my foot landed back on the ground, there was a gunshot, and I fell to the ground. There was a bullet in my thigh. 

Everything became out of focus when I hit the ground, but I could hear Gerard sobbing as he left the room.

For ten minutes, I could hear people running through the hallway, trying to figure out what that noise had been. The first person to enter the room wasn’t a cop or a paramedic or even hotel staff.

It was Mikey, a look of horror on his face, his cellphone to his ear. He was calling an ambulance. His presence pulled my mind out of its state of half-asleep-ness.

“Mikey.” I didn’t realize until he had his hands on me that I was crying, “Mikey, he shot me. Leg.” 

He nodded, and he looked like he was going to cry, too, “I know. I know. Ambulance on the way. You’re okay, you’re gonna be okay, Frankie.”

I glanced down at my leg for the first time, seeing the blood blood and-- shit- -the hole. I winced. Years of gory horror movies didn’t prepare me for that, not on my own body.

I did have other concerns, though, even if they were kind of ridiculous. “What about him?”

Mikey pouted at me, “Seriously? He shot you in the leg.”

I spoke through clenched teeth because I felt like I was seconds away from falling asleep and I didn’t want to. I wanted to talk to Mikey. I wanted to sort everything out. “They’ll know where he is. Shit. Shit, I’m gonna get fired.”

“Yeah. Like, really fired. But Frank, focus on something else, okay? Don’t think about him.” His voice sounded urgent, like I was about to die or something. I didn’t feel like I was about to die. I felt like I was in a lot of pain and like I was about to take a nice nap. My life wasn’t flashing before my eyes or anything. “Just talk, okay? Just…” He thought for a moment, “Tell me what you had for lunch.” But I just stared at him. It was taking quite a lot of concentration not to pass out. 

After a few moments, Mikey sighed. “He’ll be fine, don’t worry about him.” 

But I did worry about him. 

And even after going to the hospital and getting all fixed up, I worried about him. I worried even more then because Mikey refused to answer any of my questions about him.

Life was hard to get back into. 

The department wasn’t too keen on taking me back after I had kept the whereabouts of a dangerous criminal secret for six months. I didn’t blame them. I was just surprised that they let me off without any legal trouble.

Being unemployed for the first time in seven years was strange. I sat around all day watching TV and looking through job listings. Nothing jumped out at me. It was all either something I needed a degree for or something I was sure I wouldn’t be able to live on. 

Mikey was the one that suggested I move to New York. It had been a year since the last time I saw Gerard. Mikey was at my apartment, having brought me dinner. He did that a lot and as much as I pretened not to need the charity, I really appreciated it.

New York was a hell of a lot bigger than Belleville. There would be more job opportunities. “And,” Mikey mumbled, “Maybe you’ll meet someone. Y’know. Like a boyfriend.”

I told him he was crazy. But I ended up in New York City a couple months later anyway.

I knew the man’s face because I saw it all the time when I was dreaming.

He looked different now, though. 

His cheekbones were less defined, his frame was wider than before, and his cheeks had a pink glow to them. His lips had more color now, too, and even his eyes seemed less dull where they were in front of me than how they had looked in my dreams and how they had looked when I last saw them in person. His hand held out a coffee cup. He was wearing a waiter’s uniform--one that wasn’t stolen. This time, he didn’t have a gun tucked into the waistband of his pants.

“Your coffee, officer. Oh.” He paused, a smile pulling at his lips. “And how’s your leg?”

I asked him what time his shift ended.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me a comment telling me how you liked (or didn't like lmao) the story! Your comment doesn't even have to make sense I just love reading comments and I'm thirsty for attention!! Yay!


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